Nothing derails a candidate faster than a misunderstanding, dressed up as truth and embellished by myth. In this lesson, we trace one back to its tragic little origin — a simple misread, four routine questions, and one unfortunate leap of logic. This is the anatomy of how, without crosschecking, myths spread — and quietly dismantle careers.
Lesson Objectives
Understand how misinterpretations take root and spread during recruitment.
Recognise how myths disguise themselves as advice or rules.
Learn to course-correct early — before a small mistake becomes a story that sinks you.
Sharpen your crosschecking skills, so you don’t follow rules that never existed.
Caitlyn’s Log
Okay, in the spirit of transparency, Emirates graduation wasn’t the first time I’d announced “I am a flight attendant”. It wasn’t even my second. I think it was my third.
I was eighteen when I first announced it, giddy with excitement, after what I thought was my first interview with Virgin Atlantic.
That’s where we begin the first leg of this journey. And there’s no time to waste. Buckle up because we’re traveling all the way back to the 90s.
Ground School
Check-In
Airline: Virgin Atlantic (VS)
Location: Bristol, England
Date: September 1998
Age: 18
Stage: Telephone Interview
The Phone Call
You’ve arrived. The precise location doesn’t matter. You don’t have time to appreciate the décor, which is probably for the best — it’s not exactly guest-ready. Oh, careful now, watch your step because we’re in my Spice Girl phase, and we’re wearing seven-inch heels.
We have a telephone interview with Virgin Atlantic. I’ve already dialed the number. It’s one of those old-school phones, which keeps us tethered to the wall by a permanently knotted cord, but at least it gives us something to fidget with.
Oh, deep breath, here we go.
“Good afternoon, this is Jodie at Virgin Atlantic. How may I help you today?”
“Hello. I’d like to apply for the position of flight attendant with Virgin Atlantic.”
“Wonderful. Are you over 18?”
“Yes. Eighteen and… seventeen days.”
“Happy birthday. Do you have the right to live and work in the UK?”
“Yes, I have a British passport because I was born here and I work at British Aerospace.”
“Okay. Do you have the unrestricted right to travel to the USA?”
“Yeeeaaah? I just came back from there. I think that counts, right? My suitcase is still packed.”
“Great. And, let’s see, can you swim at least 50 metres and tread water?”
“Yes, I can swim and tread in water, absolutely”.
“Wonderful. Congratulations. You will receive paperwork in the post with an invite to meet our recruitment team. You will need two head and shoulder and one full-length photo, education certificates, and a copy of your passport. Do you have any questions?”
“Oh! Wonderful. Really, is that it? We’re done?”
“Yes, that’s all. Goodbye.”
Ground School
Wait? Was that Congratulations?
And just like that, I became a Virgin Atlantic Flight Attendant on my first ever phone call.
Well, no, not really. That’s what I thought had just happened.
By the time her voice morphed into a series of beeps, I was already imagining my glamorous new life aboard the Queen of the Skies, eating chocolates with Milk Tray Men (you’ll meet them later), and had forgotten all about the swimming question.
I mean, honestly, those were all lifestyle questions, right? And they slipped from her lips as casually as a friend asking, “Did you remember your sunglasses?” And, naturally, that’s how I took it.
Could I swim fifty metres? Nope.
I could swim five metres — or rather, I did. Once. When I was nine years old. I only knew what fifty metres was because my ex-best friend, Sarah, fluttered her forest green almond badge in my face for years.
Oh, wait a second. Maybe Virgin want fifteen metres? not fifty. I had no idea.
Could I tread water? Um, you mean like in a paddling pool?
Anyway, what does swimming have to do with flying? Isn’t the entire point of a plane to avoid water? I wanted to soar over the ocean, not doggy-paddle through it.
Besides, I’m pretty certain someone said “telephone interview”. So when she said, “Congratulations,” I was absolutely convinced she meant, “Congratulations! Pack your bikini, grab your passport, and get ready for America!”
Why else would I need to bring photos and a passport and all that if I wasn’t already hired? I even confirmed at the end of our call if that was it, and she said “Yes”.
But no. She meant “Congratulations, you’ve successfully ticked ‘Yes’ four times in a row.”
Or maybe she never said “Congratulations” at all — maybe she said “Excellent.”
Either way, my brain translated it as “Welcome to Virgin Atlantic!”
So, as far as I was concerned, I was going for my induction.
Hmm, not much to go wrong here then, huh?
Ground School
The Golden Life Skill
Just a little harmless naïveté, right?
It sure didn’t feel significant at the time. Just four simple questions, a few dreamy-eyed assumptions, and one answer I didn’t realise would hitch a ride on my psyche and infect my entire cabin crew journey.
Remember the Emirates pool incident I mentioned at the beginning of this course? Well, it started right here, with this naïve pre-screening.
Think you’ve figured out where this is going? Bless, it’s not that tidy.
And remember, I still graduated because I didn’t even need swimming skills in the end. Nothing here is what it seems. Which brings us to: crosschecking.
If I could go back in time and gift my younger self with one golden life skill — and I mean, one, because let’s face it, I wasn’t going to listen to more than that — crosschecking is that skill. Because dear God, it would have transformed my entire journey.
And it did transform my journey, eventually. But not until after it had been further mutated by applicant assumptions and half-truths, and spiraled into disaster.
If I’d learned to crosscheck sooner, instead of graduating as a trainee at 25, I’d have been toasting my senior promotion, and never would have choked on chlorine in Emirates’ training pool.
Crosschecking is the holy grail of skills you can develop during the recruitment process and as future cabin crew. It separates the clueless from the crew-ready, and cuts through illusion. Which is exactly why this course bears its name — and lesson one leans into it.
Ground School
How We Use Crosschecking
But, first, what is crosschecking?
In aviation, crosschecking is a safety procedure — basically, a fancy way of saying “Do your job, then make sure no one else has cocked up theirs.”
Onboard, crosschecking prevents accidental depressurisation or the unintended deployment of emergency slides. It falls under Crew Resource Management (CRM) — we’ll get to that fancy stuff later.
Since we’re not handling aircraft doors or emergency slides on this course, we use crosschecking for self and situational awareness, and, most importantly, to separate fact from the absolute nonsense anonymous666 claims about airline requirements. In other words, know the truth and make sure nobody feeds you their misunderstood version of it.
Because if you don’t, you’re one urban legend away from swallowing a recruitment myth and believing it came from the airline itself.
Ground School
Ditching After a Bird Strike
Because airlines love their role plays, let’s dive into a simulated scenario right now.
Let’s assume I’ve landed myself aboard an unlucky flight from Dubai International Airport (DXB) to New York’s (JFK) Airport.
And let’s further assume that somewhere between Greece and Libya, we’ve had multiple bird strikes, taking out all four A380 engines — yeah, it’s a pretty heavy flock of Falcons that escaped the first class cabins (you do know Emirates allow these birds of prey to travel as passengers, right?)
And because every passenger had one, the plane went down and we’ve ditched, like Sully. And now all 600 passengers are standing on the wings, so we’re sinking, fast.
Ground School
Birds of Prey as PAX
Alright. crosschecking training starts now. And what better way to begin flexing your debunking skills than by questioning my absurd claim that Emirates allows birds of prey to board flights and just… you know, hang out with passengers.
Does an eagle look like something that should be casually buckled into seat 14A, picking at a microwavable tray of raw fish while you pretend not to make eye contact?
Surely no airline just allows a raptor to settle into economy, stretch its wings, and passively-aggressively eye up your microwaved chicken?
But, then again. Maybe hawks are emotional support animals, like guide dogs. Maybe a falcon’s piercing stare is the only thing keeping a nervous passenger calm mid-flight.
Or maybe it’s time we question everything we think we know about airlines. Because what you might think is right is actually wrong and what you think is wrong, is probably wrong, but could be right, because what sounds logical is not necessarily correct — Ugh, you’ll see exactly what I mean as we move forward. Keep your wits about you.
What is your initial instinct on this?
Do falcons have passports and earn frequent flier miles?
Are the birds free to fly about the cabin or strapped down?
Are they really inside the cabins or in the cargo hold?
Please pause this lesson now and crosscheck. Links provided for your crosschecking convenience.
Qatar, Etihad, Emirates and Royal Jordanian Airlines don’t just allow them in the cabin; they welcome them. Emirates’ pet policy states: “In-cabin animals are not allowed. However, falcons and guide dogs are exceptions.”
In the Middle East, falcons are the ultimate status symbol — the Ferrari of pets. So, it’s completely normal to see one or ten lounging in the royal cabins, complaining about the wing room, or casually chilling in economy, talons firmly hooked onto a passenger’s Armani cuff — or your armrest.
Forget asking: “Chicken or Fish?” — try “Cat or Snake? instead”.
As for passports and frequent flyer miles, “Between 2002 and 2013, the UAE government issued more than 28,000 falcon passports.”
Apparently, even Falcons “Fly Better” with Emirates.
Not eagles or hawks, though. If you caught my breed mix-up, nice work. Some airlines love throwing in sneaky tests of attention and memory during recruitment. And guess what? So do Old Wives with their myths and misinformation. So, stay sharp. Keep your eyes peeled — just like you would if you found yourself sharing an armrest with a bird of prey at 30,000 feet!
Wow, this lesson is like a social network. You begin with a pre-screening phone call and suddenly you’re staring at photos of prestigious Falcons.
Just as airline recruitment tasks have purpose beyond face value, so too does every story and every exercise in this course. And the payoff? It rarely shows up where you expect it.
I’ll be throwing around all sorts of claims in this course, and you’ll want to crosscheck me too. After all, I did confuse four questions for a full interview.
Oh, where were we? Ah yes, telephone pre-screening.
Ground School
Telephone Screenings
This was the simplest of telephone screenings — four yes-or-no questions, unlikely to leave a mark on your permanent record.
But in the spirit of thinking like cabin crew and building consistent habits, ask yourself:
What did I miss here? And more importantly — how could I have made this call better?
Ground School
Simple Screenings
Not every interaction earns a black mark on your record. A poor impression here likely won’t be remembered. But every interaction builds habit.
If you can’t remember basic courtesies — names, please, thank you — on a phone call, how will you summon them under pressure, in a briefing, or mid-flight at 38,000 feet?
Every exchange, however forgettable it seems, is a training ground. Not because it will be noted. But because it shapes how present — and how professional — you are when it counts.
Ground School
Begin Using Names
Begin building those habits today. Make some simple telephone calls. Ring the local store and ask about their opening hours, and use the person’s name one or two times in the conversation. Once after they have given it, and once when you say thank you and goodbye.
It’s basic. But that’s where consistency begins.
We’ll dive deeper into requirements and other types of pre-screenings as we move forward. Let’s go find out where all this nonsense comes from.